Cowboy Christmas
by everfire
Summary: Spike tries to spend a few hours of peace at a bar on Christmas. rated for language and violence.


The place was perfect. It's atmosphere was priceless. You couldn't even see your own cue let alone the billiards. The smoke smelled of cloves and booze and drifted about as lazily as the bar's occupants. The best part though was the anonymity; no past at all. The customers had no idea who anyone was, sure a few bartenders would keep track of you by your favorite drink, but no one really knew you, or cared.

This really was the way to be, shroded in enough smoke that breathing made you high and gave your great grandchildren cancer. It could make you feel like a mystery man. The feeling this place exuded could make you feel like a regular joe…

BANG!

No jobs were here, no recognition….

BANG! BANG!

No panic, just a calm, quiet place to drink.

Screams fill the air as shots continue to be fired.

The brown windowed pub was even warm, and it's damn cold outside. Out there, in the real world, it's snowing. Mashed potatoes cover the sidewalks beyond that greasy door. Right on time for the Christmas holiday too, like it was planned, which of course it was.

"Get down all of you mother-fuckers! I have a gun!"

All the stupid people have gone home to their stupid family leaving only the lonely in the bar. The old men who have no family left and smell like piss still inhabit the darkest corners. Junkies who also smell like piss are still haggling for the best price for their own Christmas gift to themselves, another stab in their arm and five seconds of happiness. Prostitutes have enough money to get the fuck out at least today.

"I said get down!"

Yes, this drink in my hand (cold yet warming and spicy), the people beside me (fucking losers that they are), the smoke in the air (a pack a second), and my own brand of death sticks (sucked on like a mother's teets) is the way to celebrate.

"Hey, dickhead! I said get down! Do you know what a gun is? Do you wanna be shitting lead or what?"

You know what? I hate stupid people.

BANG!

I liked that drink. Sure, it was cheap and sickening, but it was my drink. I look up to see a real dick. I mean real annoying material. You could tell he had no ounce of the Christmas spirit in him. He saunters across the bar closer to me like a sexy whore.

I smile, knowing that it's gonna take a lot more swagger than that to get these old men hot and bothered. His efforts are wasted on the druggies who as likely cowering from his threat of violence as a storm in their cerebral cortex. My smile fades a little when I glance back down at my shattered glass. It's back in place when I look back up at him though.

"How about a game, partner?" I asked, good naturedly. It was the time of year, right? He looked stunned as I gestured to the pool tables.

"What the hell, can't you see this gun? I'll kill you! You -"

"Cowboy." Supplied a 21st century CD player rigged to much newer speakers.

My foot removed the gun from his hands easily. I grabbed it, "nice gun. Wanna play? I got 20 on me."

"Wha?" He asked clearly surprised at having the tide turned so easily.

With a flick of my wrist I tossed the gun to a gnarled man, and turned back to face my attacker. "I'll even be fairer than you'd be."

"I wanna be a cowboy, baby."

Blinded by my charitable goodwill, he rushed me. I dodged his stabbing motions easily, catching a glint of steel hidden between his fore and middle finger. No longer feeling the tiny inkling that I'm heard some people feel when kicking puppies, I brought my fist down on the back of his poorly defended neck, hard. The would-be hi-jacker crumpled harmlessly to the floor.

My cigarette had burned down to ashes, so I retrieved a new one and took a deep drag while those people aware of their surroundings cheered. Swiftly I crouched low, and retrieved the unconscious man's wallet. After a few moment of leafing through smaller bills I removed my woolongs that I had rightfully won.

As I was placing the new money into my wallet one of the cooks felt the need to clasp my shoulder. "That's just like how I used to be." Both because there really wasn't any gain by hurting the geezer and because my good fortune had me in relatively good spirits I didn't swat him away. With drunken misplaced pride, he removed a dusty cowboy hat and shoved it low onto my head. The leather on it was so worn down as to be mottled black. Laughing heartily he crammed it down lower obstructing my vision.

Deciding that was enough sentimentality, that I frankly didn't understand, I attempted to push the crotchety stranger away from my person. "that's really great." He seemed to be appeased by my nonsensical approval, as he backed off. He left his disgusting keepsake behind however.

All in one motion I sat and removed the hat. The bartender slid forward and grinned with vicious white teeth. "Nice game," He complimented, "How about you pay for all those drinks you had before all that."

Aw shit.

It was then that I realized that there were two things missing from the bar that had been there the last time I was paying attention. The first was the man whose Christmas plans involved armed robbery. The second and infinitely more important was my wallet.

Aw shit!

"…and stay out you good for nothing cowboy!"

"Ungrateful old coot" I mumbled from my face plant in the snow, "Probably so senile that he can't remember that I just saved his sorry ass."

Lifting myself up to a sitting position, I shook off the quickly melting snow. I glared miserably at the soggy cigarette still clenched between my fingers. With a sigh of disdain I threw it back to the snow. "How is it that when a armed gunman comes to rob the joint it's only me moving a fucking face muscle and the second I don't pay an angry mob rises?" I asked the lamppost nearby. The lamppost didn't seem inclined to tell me.

I pull out my lighter and pack. Then I give the pack a smoker's flick to dislodge a single cigareete, and work the lighter. The lighter clicks at me, no flame appearing. I try again, to no avail; not even a spark. I give up. Stupid lighter. I place both in my pocket as if I had the misguided notion that either would ever work again.

I start to idly murmur the words, "I'm heading out west sucker, cause I wanna be a cowboy baby." before I recognize it as the song from before. Damn songs, glamorizing occupations and getting stuck in your head at shitty times. Trying to clear my head I look up and realize that I was walking toward a convenience store, unconsciously seeking my tobacco addiction. A quest that was useless without money.

'I'm as poor as Faye.' With that sobering thought, I turned to walk to the bebop.

Shit. Where's my ship?

Fuck me….

Everyone else is.


End file.
